


Hand of Fate

by killabeez



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Community: spnspringfling, Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising, Episode: s14e14 Ouroboros, F/M, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Time Travelling Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-12-29 01:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18297344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killabeez/pseuds/killabeez
Summary: The hand of Fate works in mysterious ways. Or: Sam and Rowena are the keys to saving the Universe.





	Hand of Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [De_Nugis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/De_Nugis/gifts).



> _And the waters prevailed exceedingly on the earth, and all the high hills under the whole heaven were covered. The waters prevailed fifteen cubits upward, and the mountains were covered. And all flesh died that moved on the earth: birds and cattle and beasts and every creeping thing that creeps on the earth, and every man._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _—Genesis 7_

_**In media res** _

The news reports called it “an unprecedented confluence of monster storms.” The entire midwest had surpassed all records for rainfall two weeks ago, and a state of emergency had been declared across most of the country. Soon, they wouldn’t be able to leave the bunker.

“Come on,” Dean said. “You’re all thinking what I’m thinking.” He looked around the room.

Sam kept his voice level, though saying it made him feel sick. “The Ma’lak box. You’re suggesting we use it on Jack.” 

“Even if we could,” said Cas, “do we really believe it could hold him?” 

“Maybe that’s what Billie wanted,” Dean countered. “Maybe she saw this coming.”

Sam met his gaze. “Dean, we can’t. He sacrificed his _soul_ for us.”

Dean didn’t look happy about it, but he persisted. “He said himself, he thought it was worth it.”

Cas said, “That doesn’t solve the problem of the other Nephilim. Even without Jack, they wield considerable power.” They were still wrestling with the discovery that Jack wasn’t the only child Lucifer had sired in the last two years—and none of them had entirely escaped his grasp. Grim, Cas added, “Some think they were responsible for the original Deluge that cleansed the Earth.”

Rowena murmured archly, “On the bright side, if this is the Ark, a girl could do worse.” 

Dean glowered, but turned back to Cas. “So, what are you saying? That we can’t stop this?”

“I’m saying that even if it did work, we might be sacrificing him for nothing.”

Rowena rose, pacing. “Look, boys. Maybe we need to think outside the box. Literally.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. Sam said, “We’re listening.”

* * *

Six days later, the flood waters had risen above the bunker’s doors. Dean was trying to get Cas drunk, while Sam and Rowena pored over every spell book and Biblical reference in the library, designing a spell like none that had ever been tried. 

It was late by the time they finished, but the outside world couldn’t afford to wait. As they gathered the ingredients, Rowena hesitated.

“You once accused me of messing with the machinery of the universe. Isn’t this the same thing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Sometimes I feel like the universe is stitched together with Scotch tape and packing twine.”

Case in point: between them, they had been host to two different archangels. Rowena mixed his blood with hers, then added a swirl of Castiel’s grace.

“I don’t know if I have enough juice for this,” she admitted. “Ever since I went up against Death...well, let’s just say I’m feeling my age.”

“You don’t look it.”

“Flatterer.”

“You can do this. I know you can.” 

She gave him a long look he wished he could read. “How did we get here, Samuel? For centuries, I never once worried about my conscience. And yet, here we are.” At his expression, she made a face. “What?”

“We already had this conversation.”

“You think I care about you? Or Dean, or... _humanity?_ ”

“Yeah. I do.”

She sniffed. But when he reached out and put his hand over hers, she shifted to lace their fingers together.

“You ready?” he asked, and squeezed.

 

_**In fine** _

_A spell of unmaking,_ Rowena called it. But whatever Sam had expected, this was not it.

“Um, hello,” Rowena said. “Where are we?”

“When. It’s 2009. St. Mary’s Convent—Ilchester, Maryland.” 

“That’s rather specific.”

“This is where it happened. Lucifer. I killed Lilith, and broke the final seal.” She looked surprised, but it made sense. “Think about it. If we can stop it, if Lucifer is never freed—then Jack is never born. None of the Nephilim are.” 

“‘And he shall be unmade.’” She arched her brows and looked around. “Well, didn’t see that coming.”

An ominous rumble ran through the floor. Sam touched Rowena’s arm. “Come on.” He broke into a run, trusting that she would follow. 

They rounded a corner, and Sam recognized the corridor; the door stood open, and the sanctuary was empty. They weren’t too late. 

Rowena, close behind, asked, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Not even a little. But what choice do we have?” They knew the possible consequences of messing with time, but the spell had thrown them here for a reason.

As they reached the door, footsteps echoed behind them. Sam ducked into the sanctuary and pulled Rowena in close. If there was one day of his life he’d choose to do over again, this was it. “We don’t have much time, and if Lilith sees us, it’s game over. Can you—?”

She made a quick gesture. _“Tegite.”_ The light seemed to dim, and the marble took on a faint glow. She laid a finger over her lips; Sam nodded.

Not a moment too soon. Lilith stepped into the room. The hair on Sam’s arms rose, and a bitter, cold fury curled in his belly. Rowena laid a hand on his shoulder; he breathed deep to calm himself. They’d have only one chance to get this right.

Lilith lit the candles on the altar—and then things happened quickly. A minion handed her a chalice of blood. She spoke to him sweetly. Within moments, he and all her demons had fallen, lifeless. Then Lilith’s expression changed, and Sam knew his younger self had arrived, Ruby at his side.

Lilith lifted a hand and the doors flew shut. This was it. Showtime.

Sam stepped out of the shadows. The doors slammed open, and his younger self flung Lilith backward. Before he could attack again, Sam stepped in front of her. _“Stop!”_

The moment he spoke, Rowena’s cloaking glamour fell. Young Sam faltered, and Ruby’s expression changed from smug confidence to surprised outrage. 

“What the hell?” Lilith demanded. Ruby shook her head. Young Sam’s face was caught in a snarl, but he halted.

“Sam, listen to me,” Sam got out. His younger self’s face twisted, and he pinned Sam where he stood.

“Ignore him!” Ruby commanded. “It’s a trick! Lilith’s doing this!”

“No. She’s not. Ruby’s lying. They played you from the beginning, and I think deep down, you know that.”

Ruby scowled and lifted a hand, intent on shutting Sam up; Rowena stopped her with a sharp, “Manete!” Ruby froze, unable to move. Rowena stepped forward to cast another spell—but demon-powered Sam made a vicious gesture, throwing Rowena against the wall with bone-breaking force and pinning her there. In the next instant, he closed his fist and she began to choke, unable to cast another spell.

“No! Rowena!” Released from his paralysis, Sam moved.

“Sam!” Dean rushed in. Young Sam jerked like he’d been hit, and Sam used the momentary confusion to draw his angel blade and lunge forward, driving it into Ruby’s heart. Her surprise dissolved into brimstone fire. She slid off the blade and slumped, dead, to the floor.

Dean, eyes wide, looked from him, to his own Sam, to Lilith. His face closed with deadly intent, and Dean drew Ruby’s knife, taking two steps toward Lilith. Sam moved without thinking. “Dean, no!”

The knife slid under his ribs so easily that at first, Sam thought it had only nicked him. It was Dean’s horrified expression that made him realize otherwise—and then a cold, sick weight sank through his gut. He gave a grunt of surprise and staggered back. He clamped a hand to the wound.

“Sam?” Dean breathed.

The other Sam, incandescent with rage and power, let Rowena’s body slide to the floor and advanced on them. Sam swayed, all too aware that he wouldn’t be able to keep them from killing Lilith for much longer. “Listen to me, both of you! You can’t kill her. _She’s_ the final seal. Lilith is the seal!” Blood seeped through his fingers and soaked his shirt. He staggered to one side and went down.

Dean knelt, one hand on his shoulder. “Sammy, what the hell is goin’ on?” The younger Sam hesitated, agonized.

Lilith taunted, “Come on, _Sammy._ You turned yourself into a freak. A monster. And now you’re not gonna bite?”

“Sam.” Sam spoke as clearly as he could. “I know what you think. But Dean didn’t come here to kill you. That voicemail was bullshit. That wasn’t Dean. Look at him, man.”

Lilith laughed, but the other Sam did what Sam told him to, and looked—really looked—at his brother.

“No,” he grated out. Then he turned on Lilith, determination setting his shoulders. “No.” His eyes weren’t black; they were clear.

He reached out; Lilith’s laughter stopped abruptly. He breathed deep, and Lilith gasped as he began to pull her power—her demon essence—from her body as he had so many lesser demons. She screamed, but to no avail; red smoke began to siphon from her slim body into the air, where it gathered into a roiling cloud. When the last of it left her, the host collapsed. He didn’t release her essence back to Hell, though, or destroy it; he closed his eyes and let it flow into him, absorbing it in a steady rush. When it stopped, the silence was deafening.

Sam closed his eyes and collapsed. Without Lilith’s lifeblood to break the seal, it could never be broken. He shivered and glanced toward Rowena. She met his gaze. Dean’s hands were still on him. A wave of agony clenched deep in his gut.

His younger self, shaky from absorbing Lilith’s power, gave Dean a bitter look that Sam understood too well. His face twisted. He took a step backward, and fled. 

Dean looked after him, but didn’t want to leave the mortally wounded Sam he’d gutted with his own hand. Sam, knowing his time was short, willed himself to hold it together.

“Dean. Listen to me. You have to go after him, but first—there’s a box. It can hold an archangel. It’s called a Ma’lak box. You have to make one. Just in case.”

“Great, I’ll get right on that.” Dean shrugged out of his jacket and wadded it up, pressing it against Sam’s belly in a futile attempt to staunch the bleeding.

Sam grunted, grabbing hold of Dean’s wrist. “It’s too late for me. It’s not too late for him.” He thrust Dean away. “Go.”

Anguished, Dean finally squeezed his shoulder and did as Sam asked. 

When he’d gone, Sam sucked in a breath and crawled toward Rowena. She coughed, blood shining on her lips, struggling to catch her breath. “I can’t move my legs,” she said in a small voice. 

He pulled her gently to him, supporting her in his arms, though it cost him. “Your resurrection spell,” he got out, when the pain ebbed to manageable levels. “Will it—?”

But she shook her head. “Not this time.” She smiled. “I guess we couldn’t change fate after all.”

He brushed her hair back from her face. “But we did. We changed everything.”

“We did at that.”

She was fading. He cradled her against him as best he could, and tried to steel himself for the moment when she passed. But she laid her head on his shoulder and her hand on his heart, and with her last breath, whispered a word he’d heard once before.

 

_**In principio** _

The day after they burned Maggie and the other hunters, Sam looked up from his laptop. He’d been working alone in the kitchen, and hadn’t heard Rowena come in.

“Hey.” His voice was hoarse from disuse. “Surprised you’re still here.”

She shrugged and leaned in the doorway, towel-drying her hair. “Where is everyone?”

“Cas and Jack are around somewhere. I think Dean went for a drive.” It was the first time he’d seen her anything less than perfectly coiffed and made up. He cleared his throat. “Are you hungry? Can I make you something to eat?”

The corner of her mouth curved up. “I’ve got a better idea.”

* * *

Sam didn’t know where they were, but it definitely wasn’t Kansas. A sunny meadow carpeted in wildflowers; a convenient shade tree. Snow-capped mountains rose in the distance against a vibrant blue sky. 

Rowena, wearing a sundress, gave a flourish, and a picnic basket appeared in her hand, a bottle of sparking wine sticking out the top. Sam raised his eyebrows.

“What? It’s true, I’m not quite at full strength these days, but I’m still me.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

They ate lunch while the sun shone and the birds chirped. She kicked off her shoes, and he blushed, caught looking at her dainty, elegant feet in the grass.

“Thank you,” he said after a while, sipping at the wine. “This is…amazing.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Can I ask you something?

“Always so polite.”

He smiled, self-conscious. “Why do you keep helping us? After what it’s cost you?”

“We’re creatures of habit. Even me. It’s human nature.”

“It’s more than that. You stayed behind with Lucifer to give us a chance to save Mom. You let Michael possess you to save us.”

“Let’s call it a moment—or two—of temporary insanity.”

“Mm.”

“Why do _you_ think I do it?”

“Honestly? I think after all we’ve been through together...we’re friends.”

“Friends. I hardly know what that word means.”

“Exactly.” 

She scoffed. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’re also destined to murder me—in every version of reality.”

“Says Billie. But I’m not so sure she always tells the truth. Take Dean and that box, for example.”

Rowena considered that. “Do you think there’s such a thing as redemption?”

“Yeah, I do. Me, Dean, Cas—even Mom—we’ve all done things we regret. And nothing we do will ever erase those choices. But we have to try.” 

Rowena was quiet for a long moment. When she glanced up, her look was speculative, and a smile played at her mouth.

“ _Friends._ Are you sure that’s all it is?”

 _Crap._ Was he that obvious? 

He cleared his throat. “I’m not...”

She reached out and, very gently, tucked his hair behind his ear. “Not what? Alive? Human?” 

His cheeks warmed. “Honestly? Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

She said nothing. With no idea what he was doing, he kissed her. 

When they finally broke apart, she said, “Well, that complicates things.” He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, she raised a hand. “I know. Right place, wrong time. Story of my life.” Her green eyes sparkled. “But I appreciate the thought. Raincheck, maybe?”

“I’d like that.”

She sighed and got up, brushing herself off. He stood awkwardly. Without her heels, she seemed even tinier, and he couldn’t help a surge of protectiveness, ludicrous as it was.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I will be.” She didn’t ask the same of him, probably knowing the answer. “Take care of yourself, Samuel. Don’t be a stranger.” Then she laid a hand on his cheek and said, _“Revértitō.”_

He blinked. He was back in the bunker, her smile an afterimage, a promise she folded in the palm of his hand. 

 

~ end ~

**Author's Note:**

> Written for de_nugis, for the prompts, "at first," "in the middle of something," and "the end." I also tried to include some variation of "alt!Sam/Sam," just for fun.
> 
> I have never studied Latin. In the extremely likely event I've used a phrase wrong or mis-conjugated something, please don't hesitate to correct me.


End file.
